


L'insomnie

by shinyoten



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Broken Graham crackers, Comfort, Denial, Gentle Hanni, Hallway talk, Hand Jobs, Jealous Cannibals, M/M, Mr. I am not gay but damn you pretty, Mr. I can't sleep Will Graham, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Vignette, eating people in breakfast food, lots of longing, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5176925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinyoten/pseuds/shinyoten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He lingers at Hannibal’s door every few nights still, doing it out of habit he tells himself, instead of curiosity. Hannibal does not open his door anymore nor does he invite him in. Will wonders about that too. So one night, he touches the doorknob, turns it, and enters the room.</p><p>A series of encounters between a shy Graham in denial and a gentle cannibal, from breakfast food with human sausage, to midnight cuddles in the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hallway Talk

**Author's Note:**

> I plan on this being a three chapter fic. Any comments are welcome. I usually write in vignettes with fluff fics, with odd spaces in timing. If you prefer a linear format let me know.

He’s posed underneath the shower head, water rushing down his body, flushing away debris and ripped skin. Red swirls around the drain, collecting in a pool about his feet. All he hears is his own breathing. Then he falls, swallowed by water.

Will feels hands, callused and gentle, lifting him. They’re wet, he’s wet, and there is a heavy pressure building in his skull. Hands caress and support him, running soft material over his body, patting away the water, the blood. "Will."

He opens his eyes to the voice. Bright light, white tile. Green sweater, warm skin, soft fabric.

"You fainted in the shower," Hannibal breathes, his voice betraying his lack of sleep.

Will realizes they are in a bathroom, that Hannibal is supporting him, that his hair is wet, and that he is naked, with only a towel between them. He does not care though, because everything hurts. The only thing he does care about is that he’s not dead, and that they’re still here. Existing. His only response is a grunt and he closes his eyes.

Hannibal inspects the gash in Will’s face and is holding an extra towel beneath his head where he had created a new one from falling in the shower. "I need to tend to your wounds. You reopened some of your stitches."

Will reaches for Hannibal’s shirt, running his fingers wearily across the fabric. The latter smiles. "I’m fine. I already took care of the wound, now let me take care of you."

"Why?" Will asks, his voice strained, difficult to understand.

Hannibal sits the man up slowly, still pressing a towel to his head. "As long as I breathe, so shall you. "

~*~

Will does not remember much about the recovery process. He knows he’ll scar, that he will hurt even after the wounds seal up. His heart will ache for a separation that he can never have from a man that may as well be his own reflection. Hannibal plays the nurse, drugging Will, changing his bandages, and even cooking for him from what limited materials they possess. Will wants to ask about the man’s wounds, how he is fairing, but resents himself for it. Hannibal betrays nothing, never saying how he is, or where he goes when he leaves the house where they are hiding. He mentions Chiyo, fake passports, and having to leave soon, but keeps his distance.

One day, Will stands outside the door of the room where Hannibal sleeps. He just stands there, not knowing why, and thinks. He knows that Hannibal is gone that night but he stands there anyway, wondering, and despising himself for it.

Hannibal finds Will asleep in the hallway outside of his door early in the morning. He stares at the soft contours of the younger man’s face, and at his unkempt beard and his long eyelashes. Hannibal reaches out to him but then withdraws his hand. He fetches a blanket, throws it over top of the sleeping man, and walks into the kitchen to make breakfast.

When Will awakens, he walks into the kitchen, smelling eggs and the unmistakable scent of smoked meat. There is a plate set out for him and Hannibal’s sleeves are rolled up as he scrubs dishes. His back is to Will but he knows he is there. "Are you ever going to talk about it?"

Will blinks, sitting down to take the plate laid out for him, wondering who was on the menu last night in order to make this meal. "I’m not sure what good it would do."

Hannibal pauses from his plate scrubbing and turns to face Will. "You have not left yet. I have not tried to stop you."

"But wouldn’t you?" A silence passes between them. "You aren’t my prisoner Will. What we shared that night beneath the moonlight-"

"Let’s not talk about it. Thanks for breakfast." Will scarfs down his food, indicating that the conversation was over.

Hannibal sighs and goes to exit the kitchen. He pauses, giving Will a sidelong glance. "You called it beautiful. Will, I want a life for us, beyond running, behind games of chase and lurking in the dark. I don’t resent the fact that you tried to kill us that night. I would have died happily in your arms, but I didn’t, so thus I could not bear to lose you. I built a place for us Will, beyond mind palaces, death, and the FBI. I would show that place to you, if you’d allow me."

Hannibal begins to walk away, but Will speaks up. "I haven’t said no, geez. I’m already eating your kills. Stop being so dramatic."

Hannibal turns swiftly. "Will-"

Will stands up. "I’m going to go shower." He walks past Hannibal, straight to his room, leaving the older man standing there, alone and miffed.

~*~

Will stands outside Hannibal’s door again. He tells himself it is because he cannot sleep. Hannibal probably can smell him, unless he is sleeping. He just sinks against the wall, annoyed, until he hears the door creak and there is Hannibal staring down at him.

"You don’t want to talk about this either I presume?" He’s clad in pajama pants and no shirt and his hair is askew.

Will stares simply due to the fact he has never seen the cannibal in such a state of undress and he is not certain while he feels amused, surprised, or something else. Hannibal closes the space between them and whispers. "How do you expect me to sleep if I can smell you so close, lingering outside my door? Are you mocking me Will?"

Will averts his gaze. "No. I just cannot sleep much anymore. I like to sit here I guess."

Hannibal notices the younger man’s stiff posture. "Would you like me to stay up with you? Or to give you something to sleep?"

Will looks at him starkly, with wide dark eyes, no longer avoiding his gaze. "No, I’m fine. Are you ever bothered by it? By what you are?"

"No. That is where you and I differ Will. To kill is second nature. It is a necessity, an honor, a part of life, and a part of me. If you wish to stay, you will have to understand that as well. Let go of your inclinations for compassion, for the past you can no longer regain."

Will’s expression crumbles and he looks broken, childlike. "It’s not just the killing. I’m afraid I’ll forget, Molly, my dogs, Alana, Jack…Abigail…I can’t just disregard all of that Hannibal. I can’t just forget. I’m not like you, I remember what I must, whom I have loved and will continue to think of, despite everything."

Hannibal makes a low sound in his throat. "I think of you Will. I am not devoid of those sentiments. I think of Abigail…I think of what we could have had. I just don’t need anyone as I need you. You’re the only one in this world who has truly understood me and seen me."

He presses a hand to Will’s face, to the jagged scar forming on his cheek. The man shudders at the contact and closes his eyes. Hannibal catches the tears that Will cannot keep at bay and soon he is resting his face against the man’s neck as he loses his resolve. Hannibal wraps an arm around him and lets him weep.

~*~

They move, and they do what is necessary. Hannibal likes the word "necessary," but never bothers to explain the context. He thinks it is necessary that Will cleans up his wardrobe or learns to drink fine wine. It is necessary that he learns to sew a button or make an egg other than one that is scrambled. It is necessary he learns how to carefully cut flesh, to clean it, to adorn it and display it with design and care. Will does all of these things and more, but for once he would like to tell Hannibal that it is necessary for him to shut the hell up.

He lingers at Hannibal’s door every few nights still, doing it out of habit he tells himself, instead of curiosity. Hannibal does not open his door anymore nor does he invite him in. Will wonders about that too. So one night, he touches the doorknob, turns it, and enters the room.

Hannibal looks at him from the bed with his usual deadpan expression. "Hello Will."

"Hi," he replies awkwardly, looking around. The room is simply furnished, which surprises him. He glances at Hannibal, who has not moved. "I cannot sleep. Sorry." 

"So you came in here?"

"Yeah." 

"Would my bed work better for you?"

The blatant question makes Will open his mouth slightly. "Sure." He is not sure why he responds in the affirmative, but awkwardly walks over to the bed and sits down on it. Hannibal moves the covers and Will sinks under them, muttering a quiet thanks.

"Would you like me to leave or to get you anything?" Hannibal asks quietly.

Will shakes his curly head swiftly. Hannibal turns his back to him, but is grinning. "Alright then, goodnight Will."

"G’ night."

  


The next morning Will bumps into a hard, muscular, thing and opens his eyes to see a sleeping Hannibal. He stares at the serene face, the wrinkles under his eyes, the fine blonde-gray hair. As he stares, eyes open, and meet his. "Morning."

Will turns around automatically in response. Hannibal wraps his arms around him and keeps him there. Will breathes heavily at the gesture and knows that he is hard, but tells himself it is just typical morning wood.

"I can go make the coffee," he mutters stupidly.

"It can wait for a bit," Hannibal replies. "You have not been sleeping much Will. It is ok to rest." Hannibal’s arm shifts and bumps Will in awkward places. Will’s face reddens and he flails, but Hannibal holds him there, making a shushing sound. "Will, it’s ok."

"I’m sorry, I’m a guy. I can’t help it. God, I’m sorry dude."

Hannibal chuckles. "Are we going to take care of it?"

Will’s stomach flips at the question. He could run away, Hannibal would let him if he really wished to, yet he stays there, with his mind reeling and his stomach doing back flips. He faces Hannibal and his hard-on brushes the man's stomach, and he groans.

Hannibal smiles serenely. "That’s a good boy." He kisses Will softly at first, and the younger man is not sure what to do or how the fuck he ended up in bed with Hannibal the cannibal. He kisses back though, as Hannibal nibbles at his lower lip, and they lie there, lip-locked, for a few moments.

Will feels Hannibal’s hands run up and down his back, brushing his legs, and his ass. He groans again, bucking against him by instinct, and locks his arms around Hannibal’s back. He opens his mouth to the other man and Hannibal makes a delighted sound of surprise, responding fiercely. Will is caught up in making out, in dancing tongues and heated breath, until he feels Hannibal’s hand rub him through his boxers. He lets out a shameless moan, as Hannibal begins to stroke him, before slipping his hand underneath his boxers, and releasing him from the cumbersome fabric.

Will’s brain feels wooly and he is overheated and needy, as Hannibal pumps him with an agonizing slowness. "Ah fuck… need… fuck faster." 

Hannibal denies him at first, enjoying the expressions on Will’s face as he begs for more, leaning into him, sweaty and gasping. Finally, Hannibal picks up his pace, and assaults Will’s neck, kissing, sucking, and biting. Will grabs at Hannibal madly, bucking against his hand. "Fuck, I’m close! Hannibal-"

"Come for me Will."

With a few more strokes Will is trembling, crying out as he orgasms, cumming all over his shirt and Hannibal’s chest. His brain reels and he suddenly feels exhausted, collapsing against Hannibal and panting. Will then notices the mess he has made and grimaces. "Fuck, sorry. I’ll go get some tissues or something."

He goes to leave, but Hannibal stops him for a moment. He plants a kiss on Will’s brow, startling the man. Will blinks before awkwardly withdrawing.


	2. Bed mates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal doesn't want Will to want anyone in his life other than him. Will dares to do more than dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typical jealous Hanni. Curious Will! Snuggles and fluff and happy shameless butt sex. However, I hope that I display an overarching development between the two of them. I think Hannibal's romantic sway with words would move anyone after living with him, even Will. We know they are already deeply connected, but there is the need for Will to accept the fact that he is loved, and to do more than hear Hannibal's words, but to listen to them and accept them.

Will stands in the shower, turning the knob to the coldest setting. He shivers all over, scrubbing at his hair, his skin, as if he has been covered in a toxic substance.

 _What the fuck just happened._ _What the actual fuck. Shit. Shit. SHIT._

He recalls Hannibal’s hands, his mouth, his voice asking him to come. Will makes a distressed noise and hurriedly washes himself. He spends a ridiculous amount of time sitting naked on the toilet with a towel on his head as he sulks and fears his next encounter with Hannibal. He hears a knock and stirs.

"Will? Are you ok in there? Breakfast is ready."

"Yeah. Thanks. I’ll be out in a minute."

"Do you need me to come in there?"

"No."

Will had not grabbed any clean clothes because he had jumped in the shower in a panic. He wraps the towel around himself and bursts through the door. Hannibal stands there, staring at the younger man with faint worry.

"Are you upset about this morning’s events?"

Will glares at him. "Whatever. I said I’d be out there in a minute. Do you mind leaving so I can get dressed?"

"Why does that matter when I have already seen you naked?"

Will pauses, his eyebrows furrowing. "I don’t know. It just does. Do you mind?"

Hannibal hesitates before approaching Will. "I laid some clothes out for you on the bed." He looks as if he wants to say something else before he tears himself away and leaves the room.

~*~

Hannibal plays some Hungarian waltzes on the piano, lost in his own world. Will has been avoiding him for days on end. He worries that he pushed the man too far, that maybe he had underestimated the level of their relationship. He looks up though, when Will enters the room. They just stare at each other, before Will sits in a chair.

"Go on. Play."

Hannibal obliges, content to just see him there. After he finishes a song he glances at Will solemnly. "Are you still angry? I am sorry if I did not read your sentiments correctly. It just seemed as though…" His voice trails off.

Will stands up abruptly and walks over to Hannibal. The latter eyes him warily. Will kneels however, and rests his face against Hannibal’s lap. He looks worn out and defeated. "It’s not that I am mad. I just can’t get you out of my head," he says bitterly. "I can’t stop thinking about the other day. I don’t know what it all means. It’s driving me crazy. "

Hannibal rests a hand on Will’s head and plays with his hair. "Perhaps you should keep a journal Will. Try writing what you think about, then maybe everything will piece itself together. You can’t let yourself stress over it."

"Journal? That’s so middle school," Will mutters, his voice muffled against Hannibal’s pants.  

"Writing out our thoughts can be therapeutic. It can show us patterns that we cannot see during our normal daily reflections."

Will huffs, closing his eyes. "Whatever you say Hannibal."

~*~

"Wanna go get a drink? I’m tired of being stuck in here," Will grumbles one evening.

"We might be seen."

"Whoopity friggin’ do, we are on the other side of the world. It can’t kill us to get a couple shots."

"This isn’t college Will. Besides, I provide you with alcohol all the time."

"It isn’t the same. I’d like my beer to not be human flavored for once."

Hannibal frowns, but gives in. "Fine, I will oblige you Will, but no wandering off. Remember the rules. "

Will makes a dismissive motion with his hand. "K."

They go to a local club, sit and have a few rounds. Hannibal looks uncomfortable, feeling old and out of place. Will perks up, chatting with some of the women around them and ordering them some drinks. Hannibal frowns, letting the flirtations slide for a while. He watches as the girls drag a tipsy Will out to the dance floor and drag him around, laughing and smiling. Hannibal begins to get irked and stands, marching out onto the dance floor.

"I think it is time to go,  _Craig_ ," he growls.

"What’s your deal? Can’t you see I am busy?" Will retorts.

"Don’t make me."

"Make you what?"

Hannibal grabs Will’s arm and begins to drag him away. The younger man protests, cursing. He brushes Hannibal’s arm off when they are outside of the bar. "What the hell was that all about?"

"They were getting too familiar with you. Now I may have to eat them because you were so inconsiderate."

"You don’t own me Hannibal, jesus!" 

Will begins to walk back into the bar, but Hannibal grabs him by the shirt, and pulls him into an angry kiss. "Yes I do. We belong to each other Will," he hisses when he pulls away.

Will blinks, stunned, yet also in ire. "Don’t be such a jealous piece of shit Hannibal. I’m going home. Leave those women alone."

"Will, wait!"

 

When Hannibal returns to the house, Will has locked himself inside his room. Hannibal considers picking the lock, but instead just sits in the hallway, hoping he’ll come out eventually.

Will does and stares at Hannibal. "This looks familiar."

"Can I come in?"

"You have your own bed."

"Can’t we talk Will? I dislike for us to be in opposition."

"Well you should of thought of that before you decided to make a scene at the bar."

Will walks past him, but Hannibal follows, stopping the man in his tracks. "Will, please. You must understand. For so long I have been alone, with no companion that has truly understood me. Then you came a long and changed everything. I’ve wanted you by my side and I’d do anything to prevent someone from taking you away from me, especially now that you are here with me."

"I get that, but you cannot be so possessive," Will replies in annoyance. "Now move please."

Hannibal stays where he is. Will’s expression gives him a warning. His hands form into fists and his nostrils flare. "I’ll make you move if I have to Hannibal."

"Will, I love you."

Will freezes at the sudden statement. He expected Hannibal to overpower him, but instead he stands there in earnest. Will groans at the devastated look on the man’s face before embracing him. "Sometimes I just want to punch you, I swear."

Hannibal relaxes, drawing Will into a tighter hug. "Will."

"This doesn’t mean you are sleeping in my room tonight."

~*~

They do however, on occasion share the same bed, except Will turns his back to Hannibal. He sleeps at ease though, and Hannibal is content for the time being to just be beside him. He finds a peace in it which nothing else can provide.

One night however, Will cannot sleep. Hannibal has already drifted into slumber and lies on his back with one arm draped over his chest. Will studies him, wondering how someone capable of such violence can also appear so gentle and serene. He’s attractive for his age, not quite muscular, but strong and well-defined. His bare chest is covered in soft gray hairs flecked with blonde and Will has a strange desire to touch them. He wonders about his life with this man who in the past had caused him so much misery and pain. He wonders why Hannibal could love a man like him, a socially awkward empath driven to kill and create art, but also overwhelmed by feeling and the desire for justice at the same time. He feels like a mess when Hannibal always seems to be collected, a walking Faberge egg; whole and unique.

Will reaches out and his hand hovers above Hannibal’s chest before he dares to place it there. He feels the man’s heart beating steadily beneath his palm. It’s warm, real, and exposed. He could take it from him, rip it out, eat it, and forget all of this if he wanted to, but he doesn’t and he can’t. Instead, he simply feels. Hannibal wakes up eventually and regards Will with a curious, sleepy expression.

The younger man’s face is hard to read, but he speaks. "I’ve always wondered what was in your heart. What you wanted. What it all meant, what I meant. When Bedelia said you loved me I couldn’t believe it at first. Sometimes I still can’t. At first I thought you were incapable of love, now I cannot understand how you could love me. I see it every day in your gaze and it frightens me, consumes me, with a warmth and excitement that threatens to destroy me if I surrender to it."

"Will, how can you doubt yourself? Your worthiness? The beauty of our union? I love you beyond time, life, or death. Whether it is in the hunt or when we are in opposition, whether you are close to me or far from here. You walk with me and I with you, no matter the path or place. You are my end and my beginning Will. Don’t ever doubt it," Hannibal responds fervently, grasping the hand that Will had placed over his heart. He kisses the man’s knuckles, before clasping the hand to his breast.

Will’s heart races from the man’s speech. Something stirs within in him and it is in that moment that recognition dawns. He stares at Hannibal for a long while, saying nothing of epiphanies, philosophy, or emotions. He just grabs Hannibal and kisses him like he’s never kissed anyone before.

Hannibal responds immediately, humming low in his throat. "Will." He kisses Will’s face, his ear, his neck- any skin that he comes into contact with. A sudden thrill and need galvanizes Will and he pushes Hannibal down onto the bed, kissing him deeply. His hands run across the man’s chest and travel down his legs.

Hannibal groans, bucking up against him. "Will, what is it that you need?"

"Just let me touch you," Will mutters heatedly, shrugging off clothes, not giving a damn anymore. He feels hot and overwhelmed, but he knows he needs to touch this man here and now. Hannibal happily obliges, letting Will shrug off his pants. The younger man hesitates at the foreign sensation of a man’s body underneath his, from the rougher and hairy limbs, to the musky scent, and the hard-on pressing against his lower belly. It’s all so new, yet it excites him because of who it is and because of the need to be whole with him.

"I’ve never done this with a man," Will pauses, unsure of what to do.

Hannibal guides his hand. "It’s alright. Don’t feel as if I am forcing you. Let me guide you, and we can stop at any time."

Will relaxes somewhat, nodding, and breathes heavily when Hannibal places his hand over his member. The underwear is gone in an instant and Will explores Hannibal curiously, gently touching, patting, and stroking. Hannibal sighs patiently, before taking Will’s hand and wrapping it around him, guiding him in slow, firm strokes.

"Will," he whispers heatedly, arousing the younger man even further.

They continue like this before Will looks at Hannibal in embarrassment. "Is it bad? Do you want me to like blow you or something?"

Hannibal’s eyes light up at the suggestion. "Only if you wish. Any attention you give me is more than I could ever ask for my dear Will."

Will takes his answer as a yes and he lowers himself in front of Hannibal and stares at his dick as if it is going to eat him. The cannibal laughs quietly. "Are you certain?"

Will nods in annoyance before gripping it. He runs his tongue along the shaft, curious at the taste, and pauses. Hannibal shudders at the contact and rests a hand on Will’s head, guiding him. Will strokes along the man’s length, kissing, licking, and then touching his balls before taking him in his mouth. Hannibal gasps and Will is emboldened, despite the foreign sensation.

Hannibal thrusts, forcing Will to continue and he fucks the man’s mouth slowly at first, before speeding up. "Will. You feel delightful. Yes Will…"

Will hopes that means he is doing something right, but his mouth begins to feel sore and he pulls away. "Do you want me to like, finish you like this, or… "

Hannibal pauses, disappointed, but then notices Will’s hard-on and smiles smoothly. His hand rests over top of it and Will looks at him desperately. "I’m not trying to be selfish, I swear."

"Don’t worry Will. Relax." He divests Will of his clothing with a sensual slowness, taking care to make sure the man feels each of his movements. Will whimpers and is ashamed of himself for it, but spreads his legs and leans his head back like a wanton whore for Hannibal as the man strokes him, blows him, and makes him feel ripped open. Hannibal whispers endearments to him a long the way, stroking himself while he touches Will.

"Do you want me to finish you?" he demands.

Will pauses. "I…but you don’t want to do it?"

Hannibal is taken aback by the question. "I wouldn’t presume to yet. I wouldn’t think you are ready."

"If we’re doing this, I want all of you. No half-assing. No pun intended. Shit, just fuck me Hannibal, for god’s sake."

Hannibal pauses to stare at the sight of Will Graham, broken and open for him. Begging for him. It is a sight he’d only imagined in his dreams, yet this was real. How could he deny him? Would he ever get the chance like this ever again?

"If you are certain. It will hurt Will, I won’t deny that. I am honored that I am your first."

"Whatever Hannibal, please hurry up."

Hannibal obliges, guiding Will to lie down. He gets into a door beside his bed, pulls out some lubricant, and spreads it on his fingers. Will eyes Hannibal’s hand warily and wonders what he has gotten himself into. He stiffens as the cold substance of the lubricant touches him and he makes a sound of disapproval.

"Sh, you must relax.  Look at me," Hannibal says gently.

Will does so, and Hannibal penetrates him first with one finger. The sensation is bizarre and a bit uncomfortable, but Will’s body gradually adjusts, so Hannibal adds another finger. He loosens up after a couple of minutes, but does not feel much. It is only when Hannibal adds another finger and grazes a spot that makes Will’s body jolt, that he begins to understand.

"What the fuck…"

Hannibal smiles, hitting the spot again and Will’s eyelashes flutter. Hannibal fucks him with his hand, finding the spot over and over again. Will groans as pleasure jolts through him and he aches for more, for release. He is shocked when Hannibal suddenly removes his hand and looks at him in annoyance. "Are you ready?"

Will’s heart races, but he nods, and closes his eyes.

"No Will. Relax. Look at me. Look at me when we are finally conjoined. Together as one," Hannibal demands ardently, lifting the man’s legs.

Will obliges, but feels a sudden, burning pain as Hannibal enters him. He gasps and Hannibal hesitates, letting him adjust before fully sheathing himself inside of him. Both of them react at the sensation, groaning. Hannibal begins to fuck him slowly, brushing Will’s spot, making the younger man cry out.

"Fuck. Hannibal!"

"You feel so very good Will," he gasps, taking Will’s member in his hand, and stroking it as he fucks him.

Will grasps the sheets beneath him, bucking upward with each thrust. He’s consumed by pleasure, his head swimming, his body aching, wanting, needing, and begging. He looks up at Hannibal, whose figure is glistening with perspiration as he fucks Will hard till the man begs for more.

"I want to see your face, my darling, when you finish," he growls, pumping Will firmly.

Will cannot think of words, only needs. He bucks against Hannibal, his legs wrapped about the man’s hips, and cries out as his orgasm washes over him. With a few thrusts, Hannibal has finished himself, filling him. They lie there tangled for a few moments before disengaging. Will rolls over, stiff and sore, and breathes heavily against the mattress.

Hannibal lies next to him, wiping away the mess, and strokes his hair. "I love you so very much Will. I hope I have satisfied you."

Will mutters a muffled response against the sheets and wraps an arm lazily around Hannibal. They fall asleep like that, naked and a mess, with Will face planted on the bed and Hannibal spooning him.


	3. Hold me steady, hold me tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will struggles physically, emotionally, in a bed, in the shower,in Hannibal's arms, all in order to find the place where he belongs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought of writing more sex, but I wanted to come to a conclusion. I don't think that would do justice to Will, I think that he and Hannibal would have a rocky relationship from the start. I do however, think that they'd love that rockiness every step of the way. I'm writing from France, missing my home in America, but inspired particularly from my remote home here in the country, thinking of Hannigram in their own little place, finding new worlds, a new life. This fandom is beautiful and I hope to continue to be a part of it for years to come. Thanks for reading!

When Will awakens, he feels as though a heavy weight is pressing down on his lower back. He turns, grunting at the shooting pain in his ass and thighs and back. He squints as light filters through the windowpanes and he runs a hand through his messy hair, taking a few moments to register where he is. He pats the side of the bed next to him, only to find the space empty. That is when he recalls the previous night’s events and groans, standing up awkwardly and searching for his clothes like he’s an eighteen-year-old girl about to make an early morning walk of shame down a college campus.

  
He shrugs on his boxers and shirt and does not even bother to jump in the shower. Will seeks out Hannibal, wanting to confront him. Wanting to ask what the hell all of this means. He thought he knew last night, but now his hair is standing up on end. He feels unusually panicked and fumbles down the stairs into the kitchen.

  
"It’s nearly eleven, but there is a plate in the fridge for you if you want to do your so called ‘nuking,’' Hannibal says dryly, from behind a newspaper when Will finds him in the living room.

  
The older man is dressed in slacks and a cardigan, his hair slicked back, and his face betraying no sign or mark from the previous night’s events. Will just stares at him, his hair askew, his body flushed and stinking, his clothes rumpled. He wants to say something and to fight, but then Hannibal looks at him from over top the newspaper with his blasted cool look. Will loses all sense of composure, turns swiftly, and pads his way back up the stairs as if he’s a dog that’s just been smacked in the ass with a fly swatter.

 

~*~

The first few days that follow consist of Will hiding in his room drinking whiskey or staying out till ungodly hours of the morning "to fish." Hannibal attempts conversation, but Will shirks him, saying he is unwell or that he wants to be alone. The cannibal allows his boy to sulk until he becomes weary of the lack of his company. He follows Will one evening and simply watches him from afar.

  
Will spends an hour or so in the local pub and then roams the town, before heading back towards their house. He just stands outside of it, drinking out of a flask, staring at what Hannibal has made for the two of them, before turning around and seeing the man standing there, eyeing him serenely.

  
"You’ve been following me all night," Will acknowledges, no edge in his voice.

  
"Yes. Shall we go in?" Hannibal gestures towards the door.

  
Will simply blinks and does not move. "Why?"

  
"You ask that a lot. Stop asking and start believing. Trust me Will."

  
Hannibal goes to embrace him, but Will steps backwards as if burned. "Don’t touch me. Not right now."

  
Hannibal freezes, assessing Will, noticing the stiff posture, his dilated pupils, and his trembling hands. He knows that Will will try to hit him, will try to run, and will fight back, but he takes a step forward anyway. Will goes to retreat, but Hannibal seizes him by the arm. The younger man wrestles with him, kicking, punching, running again, but Hannibal is in chase and not permitting any escape.

  
He strikes Will in the stomach and backs him up against a tree. Will knees him, but Hannibal recovers and catches his arms in a vice grip, poising them above Will’s head. Will bangs his head against the tree, teeth bared, and distressed. He will bite like a feral bitch protecting her pups and Hannibal knows it, but takes the risk, needing Will to remember, to free himself, to become.

  
He assaults Will’s neck, running his teeth a long the jugular vein, He kisses, sucks, plans to leave bruises. Will kicks at him, digs his teeth into Hannibal’s collarbone and takes skin with him. Hannibal groans, allowing the gesture for a few moments, but then sideswipes Will’s left leg, causing him to stumble and lose his balance. Hannibal takes the chance to pin him to the ground, continuing his assault. He positions himself over top Will, forcing his legs apart with one brutal motion and leans his weight into them so that the younger man must struggle to use his limbs.

If Will truly wanted to, he could escape. If Hannibal wanted to end the fight with a debilitating blow, he could do that too. However, neither one of them would do this now. This was the current substitute for the words and emotions that Will needed to release.

  
Hannibal is kissing Will’s neck again and his collarbone, but the latter does not bite back. Will shudders, trying to free his legs, but to no avail. He bucks his hips upward, rolling them against Hannibal, and groans. Hannibal simply continues to bite and suck, until Will is writhing beneath him, arching forward in need. He ruts against him, rubbing his erection against Hannibal’s own.

The fabric between them is painful to Will, creating too much friction. He wants his arms to be free and his wrists are numb. He needs to touch, be touched, and be ripped open inside and out. Hannibal responds by kissing Will fiercely on the mouth, forcing his tongue into his mouth. The cannibal bucks against him, still holding Will’s wrists, and abuses his mouth, drawing blood from his lower lip.

  
"Hannibal please!" Will cries, between kissing, gasping, and groaning.

  
Hannibal will not relent, but enjoys the sounds of his Will begging, asking for more. He thrusts against Will, showing his dominance, making the motions painful and pleasurable at the same time. Will is overwhelmed, near release, bucking repeatedly against the older man. It is only when Hannibal bites his ear, growling against him, that Will comes. Hannibal finishes moments later, and releases Will’s wrists slowly. He lies on top of Will, collecting himself for a few moments before looking down at him.

  
Will looks weary, abashed, and angry at the same time. His lips are swollen and his neck is covered in red welts, teeth marks, and soon-to-be bruises. Hannibal smiles, kissing him gently on his scarred cheek.

  
"Now shall we go inside?"

 

Hannibal steps into the shower with Will, washing him as if performing a ritual. His hands are gentle against the raised marks on the man’s neck, and he washes him, all over with a steady slowness and care. Will allows Hannibal to do this and watches the water rush down their bodies, cleansing away the blood and dirt from their scuffle. He is silent for what seems like an eternity before he presses Hannibal against the shower wall and kisses him, starved and scared.

  
Their hands reach everywhere, petting, cupping, grabbing. It is then that Hannibal holds Will’s face in his hands and he says, "Be with me always."

 

~*~

"It’s difficult," Will admits one evening. He gives no context, nor any more explanation, because he doesn’t have to.

  
Hannibal comes up behind him, wraps his arms around him, and kisses his neck. "I know. But we’ll figure it out, together."

  
Will closes his eyes, exhaling, the glass of wine in his hand nearly slipping from his grasp. He leans into the embrace and Hannibal takes the glass from him, setting it aside on a nearby desk. He takes one of Will’s hands within his own, poising them over the man’s stomach, his jagged scar. Hannibal nudges the fabric of Will’s shirt up so that their fingers brush the scar together. Will shivers and Hannibal kisses his neck again.

  
"You branded me, so I’d always have a part of you to take with me," Will says shakily.

  
"A gift. A memory. A shard, to put the tea cup back together again," Hannibal sighs against his neck.

  
They rock together recalling, feeling, and breathing.

~*~

Will awakens in the night, but no longer in an empty bed. He looks at the man next to him and sees him, beyond flesh, beyond times carved in fog with knives. He knows that they will fight again, that he will recall Abigail, the child they lost, that he will blame himself or Hannibal, that they will always be on the run. He also knows that he will never know what it all means, their union, their mutual love and hate, yet Will does not feel like Bluebeard’s wife. Somehow, he knows that he is the last of the chain, that he will live, and that he will stay and endure beside this man.

  
He knows that despite everything, that this feels right, and that this is where he belongs. Will however, will never say all of these words to Hannibal.

  
He does however, rest his hand on Hannibal’s face when he awakens, and says "I love you."


End file.
